The Invincible Female Ghost Is A Bit Of A Hopeless Romantic Chapter 260: The Road

The wooden fish sounded.

This ti it wasn’t distant, it was much closer, as if just beyond that fog, coming from behind so invisible stone platform.

Imdiately after, every shadow around them froze in unison.

Lu Yuan’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s coming.”

Almost simultaneously he raised his hand, pulled out the copper coin stained with black flakes from his bag, rubbed the coin hole with his fingertip, then flicked it into the air.

As the coin flipped, he swiftly ford a very brief “Shadow-Illuminating Seal”:

Two fingers together pressed to the palm, the thumb touching the outside of the middle finger.

Left foot ghost-stepped three tenths, right foot pulled back one inch.

A breath held unbroken in his chest, a thread of divine focus fixed in his eyes.

Then he spoke each syllable like a nail being driven in:

“Heaven’s light reveals shadows, earth’s qi returns to root.”

“True forms not hidden, false faces separate themselves.”

“Coin open your eye, lend one clarity.”

“Show the path ahead, show the evil spirit.”

“Urgently, as by the law’s command, reveal!”

When he finished, the coin clinked and landed askew on the ground.

That faint glint of tal flashed for a split second in the mist.

But that brief flash made everything visible.

Beyond the fog there was no stone platform, nor the end of a mountain path, but an old place half enclosed by a crumbling earth wall.

The wall was low and heavily weathered. Inside stood several black wooden stakes, with faded paper banners hanging from them.

The characters on the banners had been washed away by wind and rain until unreadable, leaving only a few gray-white fold lines like fingernail marks left by the dead.

In the middle of that old enclosure stood a black altar about half a person’s height.

The altar’s body was squat but steady. A yellowing mat covered its mouth; seven tiny black nails pinned the mat’s edge.

On each side of the altar’s front was a thin bamboo pole tied with hemp rope, the rope ends disappearing into the ground as if connected to sothing below.

Most terrifying of all, kneeling before the black altar was a shadow.

The shadow had no face, its back bowed extrely low, hands clasped at its chest as if offering sothing into the altar.

And that wooden fish sound had co from a wooden box beside the shadow’s knees.

When Zhou Heng glanced over, he felt all the blood in his body go cold, his throat tightened.

“W-what is being offered in that altar?”

Lu Yuan stared at the black altar, his gaze heavy enough to press water out of the air.

“Offering the Road.”

“Just like before, a ‘seat-altar.’”

“The mat presses the path, the nails lock the mouth, the banner summons the shadow, the wooden fish calms the spirit.”

“This is a thod using the living’s doorway to make a road for dead things.”

After he spoke, he suddenly reached and tugged Song Qinghe half a step back by her waist.

Almost at the sa mont, the faceless shadow kneeling before the altar abruptly lifted its head.

Although featureless, everyone distinctly felt that it had “looked” toward them.

The next second, a faint, fine rustling ca from inside the black altar, like sothing under the mat slowly scratching with fingernails.

Lu Yuan’s expression finally turned completely cold.

“It’s about to open the altar.”

No sooner had he spoken than the mountain fog surged, the paper banners moved though there was no wind, and surrounding shadows leaned forward as one.

At that instant, the whole clearing felt like sothing had lifted it up from beneath.

As the fog pressed down, it was like a black cloth was thrown over their heads, even the morning light swallowed clean.

Zhou Heng’s vision grayed, ears buzzed, his chest felt gripped by an invisible hand, his breath nearly cut short.

Lin Zhaoxuan instinctively stepped forward half a pace; as his toe hit the ground there was a light cracking sound underfoot, like breaking a hollow shell.

Looking down, he found a small wooden wedge buried in the soil. The wedge’s head was sared black with oil, and a trace of incense ash clung to it.

“Not right.”

Lin Zhaoxuan’s face changed suddenly.

“There are triggers in the ground!”

Lu Yuan had already seen them.

He swept his gaze and said in a low voice:

“Don’t step randomly.”

“These are the altar’s outer ‘foot-seals.’”

“If you step them solid, they’ll wrap your foot’s yang qi and you won’t move cleanly.”

He finished speaking, then first moved Song Qinghe behind him.

He then switched two small steps underfoot, like stepping on a plum-blossom pattern and like walking a combat stance, yet every footfall landed on invisible gaps.

The steps looked light but were exceptionally steady; his feet pressed not on soil but on the mountain’s gloomy pulse of yin energy.

As he walked, Lu Yuan spoke quietly, not loudly, but as if reciting directly to the land itself:

“Heaven has its gate, earth has its door.”

“Mountains have passes, waters have routes.”

“Humans walk yang paths, ghosts guard yin corners.”

“A mat can press a foot, but it cannot press .”

“I borrow the void of the mid-heavens, step the ley and break the mist.”

“Urgently, as by the law’s command, go!”

Lu Yuan’s right foot suddenly halted. The tight presence that had been coiled around him drove into the ground like a nail.

The paper-face shadows that had been drifting in the mist were shaken into a pause by that one step.

Zhou Heng finally caught half his breath and hurriedly pressed his voice low to ask:

“Brother Lu, what…what do we do now?”

“Are they going to swarm us?”

Lu Yuan’s eyes did not leave the black altar ahead.

“They won’t pounce first.”

“The seat-altar follows rules. If the altar doesn’t open, the shadows test first.”

“When the altar opens, that’s the real ga.”

While he spoke, the faceless shadow before the altar slowly raised its hands.

Its hands were oddly thin, wrists almost reed-thin, yet the knuckles were segnted and distinct.

After lifting its hands to chest height, it turned them gently and pushed the wooden fish box forward.

“Dong.”

The wooden fish sounded again.

This clang was heavier than before, as if coming from deep inside the altar, vibrating the ribs with numbness.

Right after, the yellowing mat on the altar slightly bulged, as if sothing below was slowly turning over.

Song Qinghe paled and blurted:

“There’s living qi in the altar!”

Lu Yuan’s expression hardened.

“Not living qi.”

“It’s offered qi.”

“When living people tend incense long enough, the thing below will eat their qi as fuel.”

He said this and then took three Yellow Talismans from his bag, twisting the corner of the first between his fingertip and murmuring:

“Four Symbols calm the earth, eight winds return the path.”

“Today I open these talismans not to slay, but to sever the altar’s thods.”

When he finished, the talisman at his thumb seed to ignite without fla, a thin wisp of azure smoke rising from the corner.

Lu Yuan flicked his wrist, and the talisman, instead of burning to ash, floated like a thin tongue of fire toward the altar.

Before the talisman landed, the two slender bamboo poles at the altar’s edge snapped with a simultaneous crack.

Zhou Heng was stunned.

“Broken?”

Lu Yuan said:

“Cut the altar’s eye.”

“These two bamboos aren’t ornantal; they asure the road for that thing in the altar.”

“When the bamboos break, the altar’s mouth loses one layer of guidance.”

The faceless shadow in front of the altar seed to sense sothing wrong; it swayed sharply as if about to recoil.

But the mont it moved, a faint rustling sounded from under the altar mouth.

The noise was like sothing scratching beneath the mat, like fingernails picking at wood.

Then, the entire black altar slid forward slightly.

Just an inch.

When it shifted that inch, everyone saw that under the altar was not soil nor stone.

It sat upon a layer of grayish dry bone dust, interspersed with fine fragnts of black hair.

The black hair was tangled into a mass, like a woman’s long hair roughly cut and soaked in incense oil, pressed under the altar for a long ti, half decayed, half preserved.

From a distance it resembled a nest of tiny black insects.

Song Qinghe sucked in a cold breath, her voice trembling:

“T-this…under the altar is hair?”

Lu Yuan scanned it and said coldly:

“It’s the altar’s root.”

“They use human hair, wrapped bones, pressed at the altar base so the altar mouth will not dissipate.”

Lin Zhaoxuan’s face darkened; he lowered his voice at last.

“This isn’t a simple evil altar.”

“This is a proper ‘nourishing-mouth altar.’”

Lu Yuan nodded slightly.

“More or less.”

“First press the path with the mat, then the banner summons the shadow, the wooden fish steadies the heart, black nails lock positions, and finally hair roots and bone dust nourish the altar mouth.”

“This thing doesn’t rush to eat people; it first eats their path-recognition.”

“If a person recognizes the wrong road, it can follow your steps and slowly guide you into the altar.”

Hearing this, Zhou Heng’s scalp prickled; he couldn’t help asking:

“So…how do we break it?”

Lu Yuan raised his eyes to the black altar that trembled slowly like an old, long-buried grave.

“Break the mat first.”

“If the mat isn’t broken, the altar won’t open.”

“If the altar doesn’t open, the thing inside won’t fully awaken.”

He then produced a pinch of fine salt and that coin stained with black flakes, sprinkling salt onto the coin.

He held the coin between two fingers and murmured:

“Salt purifies, tal is the edge.”

“One coin to expose the eye, let a hundred filths collapse.”

“There’s a mat before the altar, beneath the mat is yin.”

“tal and salt fall, sever your root proof.”

“Urgently, as by the law’s command, break!”

On the final word, he snapped his fingers; the coin shot out with a clink, tracing a short arc and unerringly pierced the corner of the mat before the black altar.

With a tearing sound, the mat’s edge smoked as if singed, a small black hole instantly charred there.

The hole was small, but in that instant the mat that had been pressing the altar mouth flipped up.

A wave of extrely cold yin energy surged out.

Once that air escaped, everyone shuddered in unison.

The mountain hollow seed suddenly populated with a dozen invisible ice-serpents crawling up from the ankles, the breath carrying a tallic chill.

Zhou Heng nearly went to his knees, saved only by Lin Zhaoxuan’s steadying hand.

“Hold steady!”

Lu Yuan barked in a low voice.

“Don’t let it crawl into your knees!”

No sooner had he spoken than the black altar convulsed violently.

The mat over the mouth was pushed from inside, forming a clear human-shaped bulge.

The outline appeared first at the chest, then the head, then the shoulders, and finally even a raised hand was distinctly imprinted.

Song Qinghe whitened so much she could barely force the words through her teeth.

“There is…there really is sothing in there!”

Lu Yuan fixed his gaze on the altar mouth, his eyes very grave.

“Of course there is.”

“Seat altars, nourishing-mouth altars—there are no empty altars.”

“The hollow is only the shell; other things live inside long ago.”

He then produced another Yellow Talisman, but this ti instead of burning it he pressed his fingers together and placed them on the talisman’s surface.

He stepped his left foot back half a pace, stepped his right foot forward, crossed his hands at his chest and ford a deeper hand seal.

As the seal ford, Zhou Heng felt Lu Yuan’s whole aura change.

It was like he shifted from ‘man’ to ‘altar.’

Lu Yuan then spoke in a low voice, reciting not the short rescue lines they normally used but a precise stabilization incantation observing altar rites:

“The incense has roots, the law-line has lineage.”

“Altars have rules, roads have passages.”

“We invite the Three Pure Ones to judge above, call the Four Guardians to witness below.”

“Seal the left yin mouth, lock the right evil wind.”

“I am not for selfishness, I inquire the cause.”

“I ask this altar master: who supplies the form?”

“If it’s human-evil, reveal its na.”

“If it’s a demonic fiend, accept my nails.”

“Urgently, as by the law’s command, reveal!”

When he uttered the final word, the talisman seed to be held by invisible fire, slowly upright in midair.

The cinnabar strokes on the talisman glowed, and the talisman’s whole surface rippled like water.

Imdiately a short, muffled low laugh ca from the altar.

The laugh wasn’t like a human laugh, more like air squeezed through clenched teeth beneath a thick layer of soil.

Everyone shivered.

The next mont the human-shaped bulge in the altar burst open with a “pop.”

A hand first stretched out of the altar mouth.

The hand was extrely pale, as if frozen dough, but the fingers were skeletal and misshapen.

The knuckles were segnted and grotesque.

Fragnts of half-rotted paper pulp clung to the back of the hand, like paste from long-ago paper effigies that wasn’t scraped clean.

When the hand extended, it did not imdiately grab; instead it slowly lifted, fingers together, and beckoned toward Lu Yuan.

The gesture was…an invitation.

Zhou Heng flinched violently.

“W-what is it doing?”

Lu Yuan’s eyes went icy.

“It’s asking to be let in.”

“Inviting over.”

Lin Zhaoxuan said in a grave tone:

“If you step forward, it can borrow your qi?”

Lu Yuan enunciated each word slowly.

“It’s a swap.”

“The thing in the altar likes to swap the living and the dead positions.”

“If you stand in its seat, it can take that bit of yang qi from you and turn you inside out.”

He finished, pressed the talisman to his palm, then slapped it onto his chest, and imdiately stepped a short ritual step.

Left three, right two, center one, spin half-turn, toe-tap, qi sinking to the dantian.

Then he spoke a very short thunder incantation, each syllable hard as a nail:

“Heavenly thunder faintly, earthly thunder rumbling.”

“Yang thunder shields the body, yin thunder won’t arise.”

“Evil altar opens its mouth, first shake its heart.”

“Urgently, as by the law’s command, alarm!”

At once Lu Yuan’s left hand struck forward.

Smack!

In that instant, the air erupted with an invisible muffled thunderclap.

The hand protruding from the altar shrank as if seared by thunderfire.

At the sa ti, an even sharper scratching rose inside the altar, as if the thing within had been provoked and was frantically lashing out.

The paper banners around the altar all moved though no wind blew, their faded edges flapping like tearing cloth.

As they shifted, the paper-face shadows in the mist lifted their heads in unison.

In a flash, the whole hollow ca alive.

Countless white shadows surged from the mist, feet not touching the ground, faces formless, rushing toward the four of them in a whoosh.

Zhou Heng was terrified, clumsy and about to grab his short staff at his waist, but Lu Yuan’s sharp command stopped him.

“Don’t move!”

“Hold your qi first!”

Lu Yuan said, then suddenly pulled a stack of Yellow Talismans from his satchel and tossed them to Lin Zhaoxuan, Zhou Heng, Song Qinghe, Wang Cheng’an, and Xu Erxiao.

“Take them!”

“Back to back, stand!”

“Talisman on your chest, no one shout!”

He himself stepped forward, left hand forming a seal, right hand two fingers together, and he recited a fast suppression formula:

“When an altar cos, I do not retreat; when fiends co, I do not run.”

“Yin does not enter bone, evil does not enter heart.”

“Urgently, as by the law’s command, encircle!”

On the final word he pressed both hands to the ground.

At that instant, the earth’s qi around them seed seized by sothing, forming a faint invisible ring at their feet.

The ring was small but solid; the air within ward slightly, as if lifting them temporarily out of the mist.

The white shadows that slamd into that unseen ring hissed with thin, high-pitched sounds.

Like paper eting heat, like ice eting fire.

They were not true solids; they dispersed on contact, reford, surged again, seemingly not bothered by pain.

Zhou Heng stood inside the ring pale as death, voice shaking.

“How many…things are there exactly?”

Lu Yuan’s gaze hardened; his voice was low.

“It’s not that there are many things.”

“It’s that the altar mouth opened halfway and all the old shadows pressed beneath have woken.”

He finished, then his eyes slid to the very center of the black altar.

Beneath the corner of the lifted mat he saw sothing.

Not a corpse, not a ghost.

A half-black, half-yellow little wooden tag.

A single character was carved on the tag; the stroke was not large but had been made glossy by incense oil and blood.

“Road.”

The instant Lu Yuan saw that character, his eyelids flickered.

He finally understood.

This altar wasn’t rely for evil worship.

Soone used “the Road” to nourish that thing.

It wasn’t offering a god, not a fiend in the narrow sense, not even a simple ghost.

It offered a yin-route that could lead living people deep into the mountains, into old setups, into death traps.

And the “Road” character on that wooden tag was the altar’s true core.

So long as this thing remained intact, the dark veins in this mountain could not be severed.

Lu Yuan stared at the wooden tag, his face sinking as if a layer of iron pressed over it.

“So it’s you.”

He murmured, as if addressing the thing in the altar, or perhaps speaking to himself.

No one else heard clearly, only that Lu Yuan suddenly produced the coin sared with black flakes from his sleeve.

With a flip of his finger he pressed the coin into his palm.

Then he stepped sideways and lunged half a pace forward.

He stepped out of the invisible qi circle and charged directly toward the black altar.

The faceless shadow before the altar let out a shrieking cry and flung its arms wide as if to block him,

but Lu Yuan’s movent was faster. He flicked a Yellow Talisman with his left hand, ford a thunder seal with his right, and with a series of brisk steps shouted:

“Open the altar and reveal the road, first sever your heart!”

“Thunderfire illuminate fate, evil gates shall not touch!”

“Urgently, as by the law’s command, break!”

On the final word the talisman struck the altar and detonated. Though no visible fla, a blinding white burst flooded in and out.

At that instant the mat over the altar mouth finally flipped up with a loud rip.

And in that split second, sothing genuine at the altar’s depths was revealed!!

An eye.

A huge, utterly black, bottomless eye.

There was no white—just a dense blackness that had fernted at the altar’s bottom for decades, waiting for this mont to open.

When it opened, the mist across the whole hillside seed to stop mid-motion.

Even the wind ceased.

And that eye stared directly, unblinking, at Lu Yuan.